Meeting Madness
by Agareth
Summary: Voldemort really had no idea what he was getting into when he summoned a Daedric lord to do his bidding.
1. Chapter 1 - The Book

Voldemort had plans. He had been scheming the entire summer, trying to think of ways to get rid of Dumbledore and his annoying band of worshipers. Not to mention devising a plot for killing the Brat-Who-Doesn't-Know-How-To-Die. He was determined there must be a way to do this without taking any foolish risks. So, he started researching. Of course he didn't do all the work himself, that's why he has minions, but there was no way he would allow some of his followers to even look at the more rarer books he had in his collections.

His Death Eaters were becoming more and more agitated and nervous with each day he spent researching Dark rituals and magic. It _was_ quite frustrating, to tell the truth, as all he had found that was even remotely useful was a faded, old book.

Its cover was a grayish violet. Maybe ages ago it would have been a brilliant, royal purple, but time had taken its toll on it and it was no longer as beautiful as it once had been. Several pages had been torn or simply fallen out of it, and on some pages the handwritten text wasn't distinguishable as writing any more. The most peculiar feature it had however, was a big symbol on it. It resembled an upside down U, with a dot in its center.

The contents of the book were disturbing, to say the least. It spoke of beings, Daedra, who were often mistaken for demons. The most powerful of their kind were called Daedric princes, and had the powers of gods. It told of the realm where Daedra lived, and the lands the princes governed. Yet the book was incoherent and missed several important pieces of information, including how he could summon one and force it to do his will.

A Daedric prince would bring him immense advantages in the upcoming War. The power he would wield, and all the Muggles he could slay and enslave, why, he could almost feel it in his grasp. Yes, a Daedric prince would do just magnificently. Now the only hindrance was constructing a suitable ritual for summoning one.

* * *

 _"Voldemort sure has been awfully quiet recently."_ Harry thought and sighed. He was lying on his bed at the Dursleys, having woken up from a nightmare. The summer between his fifth and sixth year in Hogwarts had been horrible, even though he hadn't had visions about the Dark Lord. Instead of Voldemort, the death of Sirius plagued Harry's dreams frequently, and he had no way of dealing with his grief.

 _"I have heard nothing from him this summer. Unless he is the one to give me these nightmares."_ He flinched. It was not likely. _"I don't like this silence. It can't bode well."_ He turned to face the wall. _"Only a few days left. I can do this. I can wait. Its not like this is worse than meeting Voldemort head-on, right?"_ He glanced at the clock. It was 2:27 am. He wasn't going to get any more sleep this night.

His insomnia had become progressively worse, and he was getting less sleep every night. Usually when he awoke, he read his schoolbooks, or did the summer assignments the professors had given them. Now, however, a sharp noise from his window startled him. It was Hedwig. "Hello girl. Who's that from?" He took a letter from her leg. His name was written on it with a familiar handwriting. _"It's from Hermione. I wonder why she has sent me this, with only a few days until I see her in the Burrow."_

 _ **Dear Harry,**_

 _ **I hope you are well. You must be thinking of reasons why I have written to you. Am I okay? Are the Weasleys okay? I assure you, we are fine. I arrived at the Burrow safely three days ago.**_

 _ **Ron is trying to get me to play Quidditch, but hopefully will stop after a few failed attempts. Honestly, hasn't he seen that I don't like flying? We have known each other since we were in First year!**_

 _ **I am looking forward to getting our OWL results. But it's so stressful! The results will dictate what subjects we will be able to take this year. What if I didn't do well? The Transfiguration exam could have gone better, I know it! And the History of Magic, what if I didn't tell enough in the fourth question? I suppose I can't do anything about it.**_

 _ **Ron can't understand my fretting and tells me "You'll probably get straight O's on everything! You're practically a walking schoolbook, there's no way you would get those questions wrong." He doesn't have much tact, does he? Really, calling me a talking schoolbook. I know he doesn't mean it, but still.**_

 _ **The Headmaster visited us yesterday. He seemed concerned. When I asked him about it, he just smiled and assured me there's nothing wrong. Molly and Arthur had a conversation with him. Molly looked sad after it. We, as in Ron, the Twins, Ginny and I, tried to eavesdrop on them, but there must have been wards in the kitchen because we heard nothing. Whatever it was that they talked about, it was important. I hope it wasn't anything bad.**_

 _ **Have you had dreams? About You-Know-Who? After last year, I don't think he would stop sending you them. When you get back here, we can figure something out together. We can ask Dumbledore for help, too.**_

 _ **Try to take care of yourself. If you want to talk about Sirius, you know I'm here. Anyway, don't let the Dursleys get your spirits down, we'll see in a few days.**_

 _ **Yours,  
Hermione.**_

He chuckled at Hermione's descriptions of Ron's efforts to get her to play Quidditch. He took out some parchment and quills and settled around his desk. After thinking for a while, he began to write a reply for Hermione.

 _ **Dear Hermione,**_

 _ **I am fine. Well, at least as fine as could be expected, what with the death of Sirius being so recent.**_

 _"And that didn't sound bitter at all."_ Harry thought, sarcastically.

 _ **I haven't been having nightmares**_

He bit his lip and glanced at the faint lines on his right hand. _I must not tell lies._ He hated lying to his friends, or anyone for that matter. He continued writing.

 _ **I haven't been having nightmares about Voldemort**_ _,_ _ **and I haven't seen any visions about him either.**_

Feeling like a Slytherin, he squirmed in his chair. _"It isn't technically a lie, just... not the whole truth."_ Not wanting to talk more about his connection with Voldemort, he changed the subject.

 _ **I'm also waiting for the OWLs. I hope I did fine, and could continue Potions this year. I read that a Potions NEWT is a requirement for Auror training.**_

 _"Like hell Snape is going to let me be in his Potions class any longer than necessary. I'll have no chances becoming an Auror."_ Harry was getting angry, but continued with his letter to drain it away.

 _ **I'm sure you answered the questions in the tests correctly. There is no reason to agonize over it.**_

 _ **Hopefully Dumbledore will tell us what is going on when we are all in the Burrow. If he knows Voldemort's secret plans or what he has been up to, I would like to know. It is-**_

Harry's quill dropped on the parchment with a clink as his vision flashed white and his scar exploded with pain.

* * *

 **AN:** So, I've had this in mind for a couple of weeks. A crossover of Harry Potter and Elder Scrolls. Hope you will like it :)

The book Voldemort has is 'On Oblivion', an in-game book found in some Elder Scrolls games. It doesn't contain everything the game book has, but enough to give an overview of Daedra. It looks like a Conjuration spellbook from Skyrim.

I'll probably post the next chapter in a few days, now that I have gotten into the right mood to write. Please, leave a review, it'll make me happy! :)


	2. Chapter 2 - The Ritual

It had taken Voldemort weeks, almost months to gather more information on the creatures called Daedra. He had finally created a ritual which hopefully would summon a Daedric prince. He was not sure which prince would answer his call. The ritual was his own, as he was unable to find an existing one. Most likely nothing would happen and he would have to try again with a different ritual. The ingredients he needed were easy to gather: a human to be sacrificed, food offering and a clear, large crystal.

His Death Eaters had placed the offerings in a summoning circle. The crystal was in the hands of a Muggle woman who was to be the main sacrifice. Her arms were bound to assure that the crystal stayed firmly in her hands. She was on her knees on the floor.

The Death Eaters of his Inner Circle were standing a few meters from the summoning circle, watching their Lord with anticipation and eagerly waiting for him to begin the ritual. They had had the sense to Silence the Muggle, so she wouldn't make noise and disrupt the proceedings. For the food offering Voldemort had decided on a fresh salad. He had surrounded the summoning circle with runes drawn with blood which looked similar to the one on the violet book.

The night was deathly silent except for the soft sound of rain hitting the window panes. They could see the quickening breathing of the scared woman.

"I command you, Daedroth. Come to me!" Voldemort suddenly began chanting. He raised his hands towards the woman. "I give you blood, I give you strength." He brought his hands together and invisible blades cut into the woman's flesh. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Completely unperturbed by this, Voldemort continued. "I offer you hospitality, I offer you food." Nothing seemingly happened to the food, but he resumed the ritual. He raised his hands again.

"The finest gift I can give, I will. Come, and you shall get the soul of a mortal!" A dark purple light began to shine around the woman. Suddenly a ball of brilliant white light rose from her chest and floated into the crystal held in her arms. As soon as the light touched the crystal it was absorbed in. The crystal slowly turned to a deep violet color that was so dark it looked black in the dim lighting of the room.

Feeling a smug sense of pride with that part working, or at least reacting to his words he was willing to see if the summoning would work. He said the last words of the ritual, voice steadily becoming stronger, rising to a shout at the end: "For these offerings I demand a reward: I summon thee, Daedra prince, to do my will!"

First, nothing happened. Then slowly, the runes started to glow. The intensity of the magic made the air hum with a steady melody as the light glowed brighter. The light formed into a veil around the summoning circle and made it impossible to see what was happening inside it. Soon it was so bright that looking at it for long would have made him blind. A pulse of light and magic came from it and everyone in the room fell unconscious.

When Voldemort regained his senses, the first thing he noticed was the pain. He cast a healing spell on himself, not wanting it to hinder his thoughts. The second thing he noticed was the veil of light slowly dimming. Straightening his pose, he tried to look as intimidating as possible. He spared a glance around him. The Death Eaters were no longer unconscious, but seemed to be dazed and confused. Deciding to ignore them and focus on the ritual, he started to notice a figure standing in the summoning circle.

* * *

Sheogorath had not been having a great day. He didn't have anything to do, and it _bored_ him. Nothing good happened when he got bored. But there was nothing he found interesting. Driving the inhabitants of Shivering Isles even more insane? Been there, done that. Gatecrashing a party and storming it with giant man-eating sweetrolls? Tempting, but nah. Not in the right mood. Brooding and glaring holes at Haskill for not thinking of a cure for his boredom? Boring, but it was probably what he was going to do for the rest of the day, by the looks of it.

"HASKILL!" He shouted and summoned Haskill next to him despite him already standing a few meters away. "Yes my lord?" He looked deadpan. Sheogorath glared at him and whined. "I'm _bored_." Haskill's expression didn't waver. He looked Sheogorath in his eyes. "I'm sure my lord is much more suitable to find himself entertainment than I am."

Sheogorath was about to make the most impressive groan anyone had ever given when he felt a slight pulling in his chest. First he looked confused, as if not understanding the pull at all. Then his face split into a Cheshire cat grin. He laughed. "Haskill! Guess what!" His laughter gained a mad edge to it. "Someone is trying to summon me!" Wiping the tears from his face he suddenly turned serious. "I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting, right Haskill?" And in a flash of light Sheogorath, the Daedric prince of Madness was gone.

* * *

He was disordered when he arrived in the middle of something that looked like a Necromancer's ritual. There was a corpse at his feet and the floor was almost flooding with blood. _"How's that? A pool full of blood. A bloodpool. Ooh! Ooh! And with some delightful pieces of flesh too! Hands and arms, even heads floating in it, like a big bowl of soup."_ He looked around and his attention caught on something in front of the body. He squinted his eyes as he tried to distinguish what in Oblivion it was.

 _"Is it a.. salad?"_ He took a step forward. _"Yep! It's definitely a salad. A salad with lots of bloody salad dressing. Yum. Well, it's one way of offering lettuce, I suppose."_ He first vanished his cane and then picked the plate off the floor and tried to detect a fork. Not finding one, he shrugged and conjured himself a silver fork. _"How rude, not even leaving any utensils for me! Makes me want to poke their eyes out. With the fork I had to conjure_ myself _. Disgraceful."_

While Sheogorath was eating his salad, the light around him slowly started to fade away. The sight that greeted him was ridiculous. He was surrounded by Necromancers and a pale, bald human without a nose. He had a reptilian look about him. _"Great. A wannabe Argonian."_ The said human was glaring at him and most likely the one who had summoned him. Sheogorath raised one eyebrow and waited.

"I am Lord Voldemort and I have summoned you, Daedra prince." He sounded arrogant. _"A Lord, huh?"_ Smiling, Sheogorath threw the now empty plate away and bowed with overly exaggerated maneuvers.

"And I am Lord Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness, little mortal."

His smile widened, turning to a vicious grin and showing his teeth which were covered with blood.

"I have to say, the salad was _quite_ good."

* * *

 **AN:** And here is the second chapter! From now on I'll try to update at least once a week, so the next update will probably be next week. The chapters will possibly be longer too.

Thank you everyone for the reviews, favorites and follows! It really makes me happy to know that someone likes my story :)

If anyone is wondering, the "dark purple light" was Soul trap, or at least a variation of it.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Vision

Harry started to recover from the pain. His scar had been calm the entire summer, so the sudden attack had first left him breathless. When he didn't feel like throwing up and he had calmed his frantic breathing he opened his eyes. He was standing in front of a Death Eater. It was meters away from him and if he reached with his hand, he could have touched it. Nearly having a heart attack, he fell on his back and crawled back.

Taking in his surroundings he realized he wasn't in Privet Drive anymore. He was in a big gloomy room, where Voldemort and a ring of Death Eaters were looking at a blindingly bright light in the middle of it. _"This must be a vision, then. Explains why that Death Eater didn't see me."_

The room was spacious and Harry thought it was a ball room or a dining hall. There weren't any paintings or other items that could have told whose house he was in. _"I guess_ _I'm in Voldemort's manor. All the purebloods would have family heirlooms and paintings of their ancestors displayed everywhere."_ Harry looked around. _"I have to admit, this looks better than I thought. More cleaner and colorful, that's for sure."_ And true, it was more colorful than could be expected from the evil Dark Lord. The color scheme consisted of different shades of greens and warm, earthy browns. The room was well-kept, most likely by house-elves.

Harry rose from the ground and walked closer to Voldemort. At first Harry thought that Voldemort had somehow sensed him when he suddenly glanced at him. He froze. Then Voldemort turned towards the light. He started scowling and glaring at the light like its very existence was insulting to him.

 _"What on Earth is that? Is there something inside it?"_ His thoughts were interrupted by the light steadily vanishing away. A figure was standing in a circle next to a motionless woman. The woman had deep gashes in her body and her blood had painted the ground around her red.

The being standing there seemed to be an old man. His hair and beard was gray, both neatly tidied. Although his face looked like he was in his seventies, his presence was radiating power and danger. He wore a purple shirt that had golden embroidery all over it. Peculiarly, his clothing looked uneven: one side looked more wild than the other. The most prominent feature, however, was his eyes. They were breathtakingly non-human. Harry had never seen anything like them: the pupils were slitted like a cat's and the irises were golden. The whites were dark brown, virtually black in the dim lighting. His eyes shone with unnatural light, causing him to look like a demon.

Abruptly Voldemort started speaking in a commanding tone. "I am Lord Voldemort and I have summoned you, Daedra prince." _"Summoned? And what is a Daedra?"_ The man, supposedly a Daedra prince, started smiling sweetly. He carelessly threw something that vaguely resembled a plate over his shoulder. It broke with a crash. Voldemort tensed at the quick movement.

The man bowed to Voldemort in a ridiculously complicated manner. It was mocking more than anything, but Voldemort seemed to relax at that familiar display of submission. _"Merlin, Voldemort is blind. It wasn't a sign of obedience. That thing doesn't look like a one to obey anyone."_

"And I am Lord Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness, little mortal." His voice was low and had a velvety edge to it. He had a strong accent. It was a mix of Irish and Scottish accents, if Harry had to guess. Although he sounded compelling, there was something... off in the way he spoke. It was the way he stressed the words, the intensity behind every syllable.

 _"A prince of madness doesn't sound like good news._ _"_

The man, Sheogorath, widened his smile, showing his teeth. His grin looked horrifying: his mouth was red with something that resembled blood, and the glint in his eyes made him look insane. "I have to say, the salad was _quite_ good." First everyone seemed to be in a shock. Then Sheogorath frowned, glanced at his hands and conjured a cane. Happy again, he started speaking.

"So, why have you summoned me, then? To host a party? Oh, I like parties! Especially the ones that end with flaying someone alive! The music, the food, the excitement. Why, I remember the one party where even Haskill seemed to get enthusiastic, it was quite a shock, really..." He trailed off, looking at Voldemort expectantly. Voldemort, little taken aback, answered him pompously. "I have a need for you and your power. I gave you offerings, and therefore you owe me a debt of gratitude in accordance with the laws of magic."

Sheogorath looked at him like _he_ was the mad one, and started laughing in a scornful manner. It made Voldemort's smug smirk melt away. "Offerings? Offerings! Hahaha! Do you mean that lifeless corpse? Or the homespun Black soul gem? Oh, how you make me _laugh_." Harry saw the Death Eaters reach for their wands. Sheogorath ignored them and continued, in a voice that was laced with malice, disrespect and a promise of pain. "I have not agreed to anything. You have no right to command _me_."

A shrill woman's voice started shouting. "How DARE you speak to my lord like that, you filthy freak! _CRUCIO!_ " The caster's dark curly hair was sticking out under her mask and the light from the Cruciatus Curse illuminated her crazed eyes. The red spell sailed through the air, only to splash against a blue shield of magic. A flash of green light came from Sheogorath's hands and the attacker, Voldemort and the Death Eaters found themselves unable to move. Even Harry was paralyzed.

After a moment of silence, Sheogorath slowly turned to face Bellatrix.

* * *

It was going wrong. Extremely wrong.

The natural magic from the ritual was not enough to force the creature to do his will, not even temporarily. It should have worked, were it a normal beast, but clearly this one was different. It was too wild and unpredictable, and it possessed powerful magic. Conjuring a shield that was able to block Bellatrix's Crucio and petrifying him and the Death Eaters without any visible effort was proof of it.

The prince was nothing like Voldemort had thought it would be. From the books he had read, the Daedric Princes had seemed to be more... reasonable, and stable. This Sheogorath was neither, and its actions were far from logical and rational.

Voldemort tried to think of ways to turn the situation to his favor. Many of them involved him apologizing and amending with the Prince. He found these scenarios highly unlikely to happen, especially now that Bellatrix had attacked it. _"Damn Bellatrix and her fanatic need to protect my honor. I would have dealt with the creature's insolence on my own."_

Voldemort could feel the paralysis Sheogorath had put on him. Reaching out with his magic he tested its strength. The spell was powerful and held firm against his attempts of dissolving it but given enough time and effort he was confident he could break it.

So now his plan was to slowly deteriorate the spell, and the moment he would be free he would try to correct the way this night was going.

* * *

Sheogorath sensed a malicious spell heading for him. He reflexively brought up a shield to block it. Feeling his anger rising, he raised his hand and cast a Paralysis spell on everyone in the room. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. _"Really, losing control and slaughtering a bunch of mortals in a fit of rage? Makes me sound like a five-year old."_

He opened his eyes and turned to the caster of the spell. _"No. I'll teach them to_ never _do that again. They'll have to be alive for that. Or, well... at least some of them."_

The offensive spell had came from the now paralyzed woman before him. She wore a silver mask and black robes, the same ridiculous outfit almost everyone in the room had. Being paralyzed, the only thing she was able to move was her eyes. Unlike the others under the spell, whose eyes were darting around in a frenzied panic, her eyes were completely still, focusing on him with an unnerving lucidity that would have made him feel on edge were he a lesser man.

But Sheogorath was no lesser man, and arguably, not a man at all, so he wasn't phased by her gaze. He stared her right back. _"She feels wild. Unstable. Sadistic. I_ _think_ _Relmyna_ _would_ _love_ _to meet her. Or play with her corpse. Could be either one, really."_

He calmly started speaking to the woman. "It's a shame you did that, you know. I don't take attacking, nor insulting me very lightly. Especially with so uninspiring and _boring_ insults! You should have come up with more creative ones! Like 'an illiterate pile of horse pancreases' or 'a truly monstrous sight, forcing even an ogre to turn away in disgust'."

"But look at you! If it weren't for your little stunt there, I would have loved to have you visit the Isles." He smiled wistfully and spoke in a fond tone. "The Shivering Isles. A truly beautiful place. Full of beautiful people too. All completely insane, of course, can't forget that." He gave her a meaningful glance. "You would have fitted right in. Like a bone in a Shambles, or a Khajiit at a marketplace."

The woman was looking at him with doubt and confusion in her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. I _know_ you, mortal. I can see your madness. It hangs around you like a cloak." He paused and then started again, in a quiet, endearing voice, contrasting his earlier anger. "You like pain. You _adore_ it. Causing it thrills you, doesn't it? Hearing the screams of your victims, crying for mercy; it makes you laugh."

Now, he turned very serious. "However, it does _not_ excuse you from attacking me." His voice deepened to a purr. "Oh, don't worry, I'll punish you. But I haven't quite decided how. Maybe I'll cut off your feet and make you dance." Sheogorath laughed. "Ooh, doesn't it sound fun? Or I could feed you to a pack of skinned hounds and keep you alive for days. It would be fun to watch you be torn to pieces, only to heal again and again."

He walked towards Bellatrix, stopping a few centimeters from her face. Never taking his eyes from her, he gently stroked her cheek. "I'll make you learn to never attack or disrespect me again. And by the end of it, I might take you to the Isles, as a reward. It should be interesting enough to keep me entertained, at least." He stepped back.

"Well then, what should I do first? How about wrenching your spleen out? I have always liked spleens. They are exceedingly funny, especially outside the body." Sheogorath grinned like a cat, spinning his cane in his hands.

* * *

 **AN:** So, it's been a week. This chapter is a bit longer than the other two, maybe five hundred words or so. I haven't had the time and Sheogorath is a bit hard to write, so it's not that long :/

Hopefully I'll update next week, but we'll see. It's been really stressful in school lately, and I have been trying to focus on it. Unfortunately next week will be as busy as this one, but all the favourites, follows and reviews have really helped me keep motivated :) So thank you, I really appreciate it.

I actually hadn't remembered this earlier, but here it is (and applies to the whole story):

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Elder Scrolls, nor Harry Potter. I don't gain any money from writing this, I only do it for my own amusement.**

Relmyna is a citizen in the Shivering Isles, the realm that belongs to Sheo. She is very sadistic and likes to 'experiment' with humans. It is believed that Sheo and Relmyna have been/are in an affair.

If anyone is wondering about Sheo, he is the one in the Shivering Isles expansion pack for Oblivion. In my headcanon the Hero of Kvatch became the new Sheogorath after Sheo turned into Jyggalag and the Hero released him from the curse. The Sheo in Skyrim and weirdly, in the Elder Scrolls Online, is the changed Hero of Kvatch.

Personally, I like the 'old' Sheo more than the new one, so that's why he is the one he is in the story.

Well, I hope you liked it, and don't feel shy to leave a review, even if it's only a few words :)


	4. Chapter 4 - The Wizard

Harry was fighting his rising panic. Nothing he did seemed to have any effect on the Petrifying spell he was under. It was alarming how Sheogorath's magic had affected him, even when he wasn't physically present. _"He must be extremely powerful. If he weren't so... unstable he would be an immense help in the fight against Voldemort."_

Harry watched as the Prince threatened Bellatrix. He disliked violence and didn't usually have sadistic tendencies, but now, a small part of him wanted to punish Bellatrix for Sirius' death. That part wanted her to scream in agony, to beg for mercy she wasn't going to get. And it only kept growing and becoming louder. Why shouldn't she pay for her sins? Not only for Sirius, but for all the others she has hurt or killed? She deserved everything Sheogorath was going to do to her. And maybe even more.

His anger flared. It wasn't fair. None of it. Not Sirius being falsely imprisoned, not Wormtail slipping away and taking proof of Sirius' innocence with him, and definitely not his untimely death by Bellatrix' wand and the Veil.

 _"But in the end, it's all my fault. I was the one who fell into Voldemort's trap, and if it weren't for me, the Order wouldn't have been in the Ministry that night."_ Melancholic thoughts replaced angry ones as Harry sunk into a depression. He felt like crying and curling up in a dark corner.

Harry perked up from his moping when Sheogorath suddenly stopped speaking. His cane had stopped mid-swirl and he had frozen like a deer in the headlights. Then, slowly, like in a trance, he turned his head.

Sheogorath was, once again, grinning like mad, looking at Harry with gleaming eyes. Harry, unable to run away or do much besides looking around, was terrified.

 _"He can't have seen me, can he?"_

Sheogorath gave a laugh and approached Harry, leaving Bellatrix frozen in the middle of the room. He was filled with childlike glee.

"What are you? Wait! Don't tell! I want to guess!"

Sheogorath started to circle around Harry while eyeing him like an especially interesting animal. Harry hoped that the weird Prince was the only one who could see him. He didn't want Voldie to know he was spying on him. Involuntarily, of course, but spying nonetheless.

"Are you.. a ghost? You certainly don't look very solid-y. Ooh! You could be a bloodthirsty nether lich!" Sheogorath looked extremely excited by his guess. Harry had no idea what a lich was and he was quite sure he didn't want to know.

Sheogorath narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Wait... Shouldn't you be more... angry?" Quickly glancing at the other occupants of the room, he turned back to Harry with a puzzled expression. "I would have thought that you are a very talentedly cast illusion, but you seem too _real_ to be completely made of magic _._ Besides these useless idiots couldn't makeanything like you."

Suddenly, like someone had pressed a switch, the jovial, playful atmosphere changed. The air was oppressive and several Death Eaters caught their breaths. "I am tired of guessing so tell me, _what are you?_ " Sheogorath practically growled the last bit.

"I-I..." Harry stuttered and tried to calm down. _"Oh Merlin, he's going to kill me."_ He gulped. "I am a wizard. I-I don't know how I actually got here, but I don't mean any harm, I swear!" Harry tried to throw his hands up instinctively to protect himself. He was, however, Petrified and couldn't move. Cautiously he peeked behind his eyelids when he noticed Sheogorath hadn't done anything to him.

Still looking doubtful, but considerably less murder-prone, Sheogorath took a step back. "So, you are a wizard, but you somehow managed to spirit-travel here, where coincidentally some idiot necromancer is summoning me? And you have no idea how that could have happened?" He eyed Harry. Then his face split into a grin and he laughed. "Well, aren't you an interesting one!"

Dramatically turning around, Sheogorath adressed Voldemort and his Death Eaters. "Now, I am terribly sorry, but I really don't have time for this kind of nonsense." He glanced at Harry. "I have better things to do. So, in my gracious and glorious bout of mercy, I have decided to not to kill any of you! Isn't that great!"

Harry thought that Sheogorath's confession of his earlier plan of murdering the Death Eaters wasn't very comforting for them.

* * *

Voldemort had been working hard on dissolving the spell, and it was starting to pay off. He could now move his fingers. It wouldn't take long before the spell would be completely destroyed.

He watched with fascination as Sheogorath seemingly talked to thin air. The idea of someone spying on him wasn't a pleasant one. _"I'll deal with that problem after I manage to deal with this one. At least I know that whomever the spy is, he's a wizard."_

 _"Yes!"_ Now his entire arm was free. _"Just a little bit more..."_

The Prince took his attention off the spy and started to address Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Voldemort was seething with fury at the end of the creature's speech. How dare it even suggest that it could be powerful enough to kill _him,_ Lord Voldemort, _and_ his Inner Circle! Sure it had managed to petrify them, but that must have been caused by a set of runes, or a potion. There is no way the Prince could have done it with a spell, as there are no spells powerful enough to petrify over ten Dark wizards.

Voldemort directed his anger at the spell he was under. He could feel the last drops of magic keeping it together slowly drip away.

With a burst of magical energy Voldemort broke free. He screamed and pointed his wand at Sheogorath. A burst of green light erupted from the yew wand, with only his rage-filled cry as an incantation. Quicker than any human could, Sheogorath spun to directly face Voldemort. His yellow eyes flashed with ethereal magic and a flock of blue butterflies fluttered to life, cocooning him inside.

The spell splashed against the insects, causing them all to shatter, scattering tiny black and blue pieces around Sheogorath. The Prince's quick movements only hampered Voldemort for a moment, however, and he was firing curses at Sheogorath the moment the butterflies disappeared.

After a moment, light engulfed him and his Death Eaters. Everything was extremely heavy, and Voldemort couldn't fight it. He fell to the floor, unable to get up or even move his limbs. Casting magic was impossible too. He could feel his magic simmer beneath his skin, but was unable to use it.

Sheogorath flicked his hand in Voldemort's direction, which made him rise to the air. Voldemort would have grinned at Sheogorath if he had been able to. The Prince looked absolutely livid. He was more angry than Voldemort had ever seen anyone be. A thin line of red was on his cheek. Blood was gushing from it, slowly trailing down his face.

And his eyes. If they had flashed before, they were burning like hellfire now.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

Then, unexpectedly, Sheogorath stopped in his tracks to spin around and look at the place where the intruder was before. He let out a frustrated growl and his scowl deepened if that was even possible. Voldemort was mystified as to what had happened when Sheogorath strode closer to him and poked him in the chest.

"You disgusting piece of Mehrunes' toenail! You did that on purpose! Now I don't have time to _play_ with you. At least not for long."

Sheogorath pouted. Suddenly his face split into a devious smirk. Voldemort could feel magic seeping into his head and body. As with his earlier efforts, resisting was of no use. The magic swept over his mind and the last thing he saw was Sheogorath's madly grinning face, now devoid of any signs of injury.

"Now, as I said earlier, I really have something more important to do, so ta-ta!"

He vanished with a small, mocking bow.

* * *

The first rays of morning light shined into Harry's eyes. He groaned and raised his hand to shade them. Why did he feel so uncomfortable? His back was killing him.

Harry sat up and realized he had been sleeping at his desk, resting his head on top of his unfinished letter to Hermione and Ron. With a jolt he remembered what had happened last night. _"Sheogorath! Oh Merlin, I have to tell about this vision to Dumbledore!"_

Frantically, he fumbled for his quill and ink. As he took a fresh parchment and dipped the quill in the ink, he glanced at his clock. _"It's already five in the morning? When I checked it before the vision, it was half past two..."_

He paused in his writing. _"I'm supposed to go to the Burrow tomorrow. Is there a point in sending this now? I'll surely see Dumbledore there and I would be able to tell about it more easily face to face... But then again, I might forget some of the details."_ He made up his mind and began to write the letter.

Just as he was entering the part where Sheogorath appeared in the ritual circle, a flash of light and a shockwave dazed him. A smooth voice spoke behind Harry. He turned around to face the speaker so fast he nearly hurt his neck.

"So you really are a wizard, eh? A shame, that is. I was hoping you would be something more interesting."

Sheogorath was casually standing in the middle of his room, twirling that cane of his.

"W-what..? How did you get here?" Harry asked, longing for his wand. Not that it would do him much good, seeing as Sheogorath had effectively defeated Voldemort _and_ his Inner Circle with a few swings of his hand.

"Tut-tut!" He scolded Harry. "I can't reveal all my tricks to you, now can I?" Sheogorath walked to his bed and poked it with his cane. After deeming it good enough, he sat down.

"Why did you come here?" His question had Sheogorath beaming at him.

"Because I wanted to see you, of course! You are unusual! Exciting! I have been so incredibly _bored_. The Isles are... well, they're the Isles. It can get boring after a while. Or after a few decades. Or eras."

Sheogorath got a calculating gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, I know! You can come with me to the Isles!" Harry spluttered at the incredulity of the suggestion. No way he was going to go anywhere with Sheogorath! The man was insane. "You're going to love Haskill! We can have tea together! Ooh, it's going to be _so_ not-boring!"

A loud crash came from the door, and Vernon bursted in, still in his pyjamas. Harry gulped. It appeared that Sheogorath's breaking in wasn't as quiet as he had hoped. His Uncle's face was purple from anger as he yelled at Harry.

"What are you doing, boy! Who are you talking to? Have I not said that I'll not have any of your freakish friends in my house!" He stopped to catch his breath and spotted Sheogorath sitting on his nephew's bed. "And- and _you!_ " He pointed at the Prince with his pudgy finger. "You freak! How dare you come to _my_ house!"

Sheogorath grinned and gazed at Vernon like a predator. Harry could feel the magical power gathering in his hand. Before Sheogorath could cast any spells, however, Harry cried out, "Fine! I'll go with you."

Sheogorath spun to look at Harry, his face practically radiating with happiness.

"If you promise to leave my relatives alone, I'll go."

This made Sheogorath laugh. "Alright, then! I promise. I won't do anything to your relatives, and _you'll_ come with me to the Shivering Isles."

He rose from the bed and tapped his cane to the floor. "Come on, Haskill! Get ready!" He yelled, grabbing Harry by his arm and yanking him up. A portal of some sorts materialised before them. Harry saw Vernon escape from the room.

 _"Good. At least they will be safe. It's not that I hold any love for them, but I wouldn't want them to die, especially if I could do something about it."_

The portal didn't seem very safe. Luckily Harry didn't have much time to dwell on it as he was ruthlessly pushed inside.

* * *

 **AN:** Yeah... Life happened. I'm sorry for the long wait. I won't be explaining my situation, mostly because it won't be any help _now,_ but I'd like to say that the last year hasn't been that easy. Let's just leave it at that.

I actually discarded my earlier plot, made new one, then discarded that one and finally coming up with something I liked. I had written half of this nearly a year ago (has it really been that long?) and the new text might be different in writing style? If it is, then I'm sorry. I can't say for sure, because I really get blind of my own writing sometimes.

Also, I suppose I should have done this earlier, but here it is:

 **DISCLAIMER:  
I do not have any rights to these characters! They belong to their respective creators and/or owners.**


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